


Sunrise on the East Side

by idoltina, penguinutopia



Series: Find My Way [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit Language, Lawyer Blaine, Lawyer Kurt, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinutopia/pseuds/penguinutopia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine move in together just as Blaine starts his final year at Harvard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise on the East Side

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Language, sexual situations

Kurt grips the edges of the box labeled _kitchen supplies_ , taking care with each step so that he doesn’t drop it and break the dishes inside. He knows Blaine’s collection of novelty mugs is in this box, and Kurt wants them all to survive the move so they can join Kurt’s in the kitchen cabinets. Of course, being this careful on the journey to his -- _their_ second floor apartment means that Kurt ends up lagging behind on their last trip up the stairs. Blaine’s carrying a box labeled _miscellaneous_ ; it’s not quite as big as the one Kurt’s carrying, which means Blaine doesn’t have to be quite as careful going up the stairs. He’s taking them almost at a light jog, spry and eager to get the climbing over with. It affords Kurt an excellent view of Blaine’s ass, and he knows he’s not subtle at all because when he finally reaches the top of the stairs, Blaine’s already at the door to their apartment rolling his eyes.

By the time Kurt catches up to him, Blaine’s bending over and depositing his box onto the living room floor. Kurt grins unabashedly and kicks the door shut with his heel, depositing his own box on the kitchen island before rushing across the apartment and looping his arms around Blaine’s torso as he stands up. “Kurt,” Blaine laughs, straightening all the way. “I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Mmm, don’t care,” Kurt hums, tugging him closer and burying his face in Blaine’s neck. “Let’s just order take-out and then we can take a bath. Tomorrow’s Monday. We should just relax and unwind tonight. Leave the unpacking for later.”

Blaine turns his head enough so he can press a warm kiss to Kurt’s lips before wriggling out of Kurt’s embrace. “I have to unpack _some_ stuff tonight,” he reasons. “I’ll do that while you order dinner, how’s that?”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Kurt sighs dramatically, giving Blaine’s ass a light smack before darting back into the kitchen.

By the time Kurt rejoins Blaine in the living room, Blaine’s kneeling on the floor, digging through the box labeled _miscellaneous_. He unearths a couple of plastic cases and shakes them at Kurt, grinning. “Blu-ray,” he teases. “Much more advanced than your DVDs.”

“My DVDs are just _fine_ , thank you,” Kurt sniffs, but he kneels down on the opposite side of the box to help Blaine unpack his things. It’s nice and quiet for a few moments, both of them organizing Blaine’s films in alphabetical order on the floor. Kurt feels twenty-two all over again, for all that he’s twenty-nine now, grown-up in a way that’s supposed to mean something. His boyfriend’s moving in with him, and a shiver goes up Kurt’s spine at the thought that Blaine will wake up with him in the morning and go to sleep with him at night. He’s never going to have to hear “I should really get back to my dorm” again.

Blaine starts to stack the cases for easier transport to the shelves next to the television when Kurt finally notices it, and he frowns a little, confused. “What’s wrong?” Blaine asks.

Kurt takes one of the cases in his hand, glances at the front and the back, opens it to look inside. “You don’t have any of your stuff labeled.”

“Labeled?”

“You know, with your name,” Kurt clarifies.

“Why would I do that?” Blaine asks slowly.

Kurt blinks up at him in surprise. “I -- they’re your things,” he says, laughing a little. “Are you telling me none of your stuff has your name on it? Your books, your mugs, nothing?”

“No,” Blaine answers, shaking his head. “I didn’t really see the need for it.” He’s frowning now too, clearly confused.

Kurt sets the case down and rests on his heels, palms flat against his thighs. “Don’t you want to be able to tell our stuff apart?”

Blaine laughs now, like Kurt’s being ironic or something. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving in together? I mean, I spent at least half of my nights here last year and left stuff over here all the time. What’s the difference?”

“It’s just -- it’s _your_ stuff,” Kurt tries to explain.

Blaine shrugs and makes a grab for one of the stacks before pushing himself to his feet and crossing the room to the shelves. “I really don’t mind, Kurt. I figured we’d be sharing everything anyway.”

Kurt’s lips thin into a line as he tries to figure out how to make his case. “I’m not disagreeing with that, but -- it’s like when people get married. They sign a prenup beforehand.”

Blaine’s back is facing him as he surveys the films already slotted on the shelves, trying to figure out where his belong alphabetically. “Yeah, well, people do that because they don’t trust each other.”

“No,” Kurt argues, pushing himself to his feet. “They do it to protect themselves and their assets, and for good reason. Half of marriages end in divorce, you know that.”

Blaine freezes a little, and he turns around so slowly that it makes Kurt nervous and uncomfortable. “So what?” he asks, eyes narrowed. “My writing my name on the front of film cases and the bottom of mugs is some sort of precaution?”

“It’s just the smart thing to do,” Kurt says reasonably.

“In case we ever break up,” Blaine supplies, and Kurt’s stomach bottoms out. “In case we ever break up and one or both of us has to move out.”

Kurt runs a hand over his face, frustrated. “Blaine,” he sighs, stepping over stacks and boxes to cross the room. “Your name is on the lease, we live together now. I’m not saying that --”

But Blaine, apparently, is done listening. He tosses the stack of films in his hand back into the box they came from without care. They make too loud of a clattering noise once they hit the bottom, everything else quiet and still. “Do you really have that little faith in us?” Blaine asks, raising his voice a little.

“That’s not what this is about,” Kurt says, trying to placate him. “Blaine, I’m a _lawyer_ , it’s not unreasonable for me to think about things like this.”

“Yeah, and in case you’d forgotten, I’m studying to be one too, remember?” Blaine throws back, voice even louder now and oh god, they’re having their first fight as roommates and Blaine hasn’t even unpacked yet. “I’ve been one, more or less, supervised by you, remember? Don’t play that card with me, Kurt, because it doesn’t work. We’re in the same boat here -- the same apartment, the same career. I know what sort of mentality I’m supposed to have, and I refuse to buy into that. I believe in the good in people, remember? And I -- I believe in us.” And just like that, the tension seems to dissipate, and Blaine runs a hand through his messy curls, suddenly looking exhausted. “I thought you understood that. I thought you liked that about me.”

“I do,” Kurt insists, making a grab for Blaine’s hand.

“Then why are you being like this? Why are you insisting that I do this?”

“Because,” Kurt sighs, exasperated now. “Don’t you want something to call your own? Don’t you want something only you can have, that you don’t have to share with someone else?”

“Of course I do,” Blaine snaps, aggravated. “But I want it to be something that _means_ something to me. This stuff?” he says, gesturing around at the array of boxes strewn about the apartment. “They’re just things, Kurt. They don’t matter that much to me.”

Kurt drops Blaine’s hand and wiggles his fingers a little bit to try and keep his frustration at bay. He ends up retreating back into the kitchen for a minute, digging around in the box on the island before unearthing his prize and returning to the living room. “So you’re telling me that this doesn’t mean anything to you?” he asks, holding the object up.

Blaine softens almost imperceptibly, mouth twitching as he tries to fight back a smile. “Of course it means something to me,” he says softly. “It’s [the mug](http://www.zazzle.com/save_a_horse_ride_a_lawyer_mug-168780983732999365) you got me for Valentine’s Day.”

“So you’d care,” Kurt says thinly, dangling the mug precariously by the hand on one finger, “if we broke up and you moved out and I kept this? Or if, I don’t know, I accidentally dropped it and it broke?”

Something shifts behind Blaine’s eyes and the look on his whole face changes. He looks confused, betrayed, hurt. “Kurt, I don’t care about it because it’s my mug. It means something to me because _you_ gave it to me.”

The mug falls from Kurt’s finger and shatters on the hardwood floor.

Blaine closes his eyes and looks away for a minute as silence fills the room again, almost like he’s trying to keep himself from crying. When he opens his eyes, though, they’re not wet at all. “I’ll leave you to pick up the broken pieces,” he says thinly. He’s down the hall and in the shower without another word, and Kurt has to sink down onto the couch just so he can breathe again.

This was not how he envisioned tonight going. He was so looking forward to this, to the idea that Blaine living here meant Kurt would finally be able to relax a little. It’s been a really tough year and a half, leaving Callahan’s firm and trying to find work and make ends meet on a much more meager salary. Blaine moving in was supposed to be the start of so many good things. It meant someone to share the rent and utility bills with, someone to curl up with on the couch at the end of the day and vent to about his work down at Legal Aid. It meant being able to do what he’d been hoping to do tonight, soaking in a bath together and having someone to share dinner with and fall asleep next to at night. And it’s not like any of these things are new for him, aside from the legality of it all, the lease and bills and a promise that Blaine would be there day in and day out.

Kurt sighs and sets to work cleaning up the pieces of the mug, taking care not to cut himself. He leaves Blaine’s boxes untouched, and they spend the rest of the evening in shifts steadfastly avoiding each other through showers and dinner and moisturizing routines. Blaine pulls out just enough clothes to sleep in tonight and dress in tomorrow, and he falls asleep without another word, curled up under Kurt’s duvet with his back facing Kurt.

Neither of them sleeps well.

*****

Kurt spends the entirety of the next day swamped with paperwork and completely distracted. The former isn’t all that surprising, especially since Lucy left on maternity leave last month, but the latter is disconcerting at best. He can’t quite figure out where last night went wrong. Blaine had been on his way out the door this morning by the time Kurt got up, and Kurt hates leaving things unresolved. Going to bed angry isn’t something he likes to do, something he’s pretty sure he picked up from Blaine. He thinks the thing that bothers him the most about their fight is that it showed how little they actually know about each other. Having Blaine in his life for the last two years has been a breath of fresh air, and before last night, Kurt was sure that they’d reached the ultimate level of comfort and familiarity. No one knows him better than Blaine does, except maybe Kurt’s dad, and even then, Kurt’s not sure about that. Last night shook him up badly. He’s not sure of a lot of things now.

By the time he drags himself through the front door of his (their?) apartment, he’s dead on his feet and wants nothing more than to throw himself into the bath and then the mattress and not move for a good twelve hours. The front door clicks shut behind him as he drops his briefcase to the floor, and it takes one look around the front of the apartment for Kurt to know that Blaine still hasn’t unpacked a thing. He’s clearly waiting for Kurt’s permission, or something ridiculous and twisted like that, and Kurt doesn’t know how to give it to him, how to fix this. He sighs and starts to work off his tie on his way down the hall to the bedroom, ready to strip and shower and just _think_.

He’s surprised to see Blaine in the bedroom when he gets there, legs tucked underneath the duvet and earbuds in his ears. He looks as tired as Kurt feels and has already changed into his Stanford hoodie and what looks like his pink teddy bear and candy cane pajama pants, judging from his waistband. There’s a sliver of skin exposed between the bottom of the hoodie and the top of the pants, and Kurt has to force himself to look beyond it to the book perched on Blaine’s lap. There’s so much more than that, though, strewn across the bed, books and index cards and Blaine’s laptop, a manila folder and a pouch full of pens and hi-liters. Blaine’s got a pen in one hand and an index card in another, and Kurt feels a smile tug at his lips as he watches Blaine tap the pen in time with the music he’s listening to. He looks tired but focused and decidedly less tense than last night.

Kurt takes a risk and toes his shoes off before gently sinking a knee onto the foot of the bed. Blaine blinks up at the shift and tugs his earbuds out, dropping the index cards and pen onto his book. “Hi,” Blaine offers quietly.

“Hi,” Kurt returns, crawling up the mattress, careful to maneuver around Blaine’s work. “I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy.”

Blaine groans a little but shakes his head, hoisting up an arm and shifting some of his work around so that Kurt can curl into his side. “It’s okay,” he sighs. “I think I need a little break.”

“Long day?”

“The longest,” Blaine affirms, shifting the book off his lap so Kurt can cuddle closer. “I really thought I’d be used to the workload by the time I started my third year, but nope. It’s still just as plentiful and tortuous as ever. That combined with the work I’m doing for HLAB just has me kind of swamped right now. And it’s only _Monday_.”

“Been there,” Kurt groans sympathetically. “Still there, in some ways.”

Blaine _hmms_ and shifts a little so he can look down at Kurt properly. “Look, I know we need to talk about last night, and my stuff still isn’t unpacked and the boxes are just in the way of everything, but can we just... pause this argument until the weekend? Tonight, I need to focus on my work and I can’t really afford distractions. I’m already brewing a pot of coffee in the kitchen to help get me through it.”

Kurt purses his lips a little but nods and extracts himself from Blaine’s side. “I’ll pour you a mug. Do you want some grilled cheese?”

“Sound perfect,” Blaine says with a happy little sigh, and he even deigns to lean in and press a quick kiss to Kurt’s lips before the earbuds go back in and he buries himself in his work again.

It’s after Kurt’s fixed Blaine’s coffee the way he likes it, while he’s waiting for the first grilled cheese to cook, that his brain starts to work again. And just like that, the fantasy is back, coming home to Blaine at the end of a long day, curling up and talking about his day, sharing a life together in this apartment. It occurs to Kurt, then, that he’s gotten what he’s wanted, but he’s also gotten so much more. Because this isn’t just about him. This is Blaine’s space now too, Blaine’s home. It’s their couch because they’ll curl up on it and watch _Amelie_ on Kurt’s birthday every year. It’s their coffee maker because they’ll both need a cup to get going in the morning. It’s their hamper because their dirty clothes will get mixed in all together until they can’t distinguish one person’s scent from the other. It’s their bed because they sleep in it and make love in it together, every night and on Sunday mornings. For all the benefits Kurt’s been excited about in regards to the move, Blaine gets them too. He gets Kurt’s words of reassurance when Blaine feels like he’s never going to make it out of Harvard. He gets someone who doesn’t mind washing dishes as long as Blaine’s the one to dry and put them away. He gets Kurt’s warmth at night and a cup of coffee in the morning and god, Kurt is out here making him grilled cheese for dinner, for crying out loud.

Living together means having someone to share things with. It means never having to be alone, and Kurt finally understands that in a way that isn’t necessarily negative.

He burns the first sandwich and almost sets off the smoke detector in the process, but the next four are a perfect golden brown, and Kurt breaks his rule about no food in the bedroom just this once. They’ll have time to make their own rules together, later. For now, it’s worth it just to see the smile light up Blaine’s face a little bit. Tonight, Kurt gives him space, because he asked for it.

Tomorrow, things will be different.

*****

Blaine walks into the apartment Tuesday night more tired than the day before, something he didn’t think was even possible. He leans against the front door with a heavy sigh as it clicks shut behind him, closing his eyes and taking a moment just to breathe. His entire body is stiff and sore, the product of moving and not sleeping well and too many hours sitting in chairs and shouldering his messenger bag. He’s not entirely convinced he’s going to make it out of his final year at Harvard alive. He wonders if anyone’s ever sleepwalked their way to graduation. That’d be nice. Gathering himself, he pushes himself off of the door and opens his eyes.

The apartment is spotless.

Not just in a ‘things are picked up off of the floor and in their proper place and the stove is clean for once’ kind of way. The apartment is clean in a lived in way. There’s not a cardboard box in sight. Slowly, Blaine makes his way into the living room first and then the kitchen. His search yields him unexpected results, his films mixed in with Kurt’s on the shelves, none of them labeled, his mugs in the far right cabinet with Kurt’s, no markings on the bottoms. Blaine shuffles down the hallway, bewildered and a little touched. He intends to make his way into the bedroom next, but the sight in the bathroom distracts him first.

The lights are off but there are candles lit and two glasses of wine on the sink counter. The tub is full of bubbles and it looks _so_ inviting that Blaine almost drops his messenger bag and briefcase right there in the hall to go submerge himself in it.

He starts a little at the pressure of a hand on his waist, lips on his ear, but he relaxes almost immediately as Kurt’s hands snake around him again, an almost identical picture to the other night. “Mind if I join you?”

Blaine shakes his head and swallows thickly, ignoring the way his dick twitches in his jeans. “Not at all,” he breathes, turning around in Kurt’s arms to face him. “Let me just put these in the bedroom.” Kurt nods and drops a kiss to Blaine’s nose before releasing him, and Blaine barely notices that the bedroom is clean as well. All of his clothes have been put away. There’s nothing out of place at all, and for the first time, Blaine actually feels like he lives here.

Kurt’s already stripped down and in the tub when Blaine makes his way into the bathroom. He’s moved the wine glasses to the floor next to the tub, and Blaine wants nothing more than to drain his glass and climb in. He chooses the latter first, though, and takes care in situating himself between Kurt’s legs so the water doesn’t spill over the edge. Blaine settles down with a happy sigh, back against Kurt’s chest, and Kurt’s fingers start to card through his hair. It’s relaxing and comforting and intimate in a way that only Kurt can provide for him, and Blaine closes his eyes and wills himself not to fall asleep. “So,” Blaine mumbles sleepily. “Is this you apologizing and admitting you were wrong? Because I could totally get used to this.”

Kurt’s lips press a kiss to Blaine’s wet shoulder. “No,” Kurt says calmly. “I wasn’t wrong.”

Blaine opens his eyes and shifts a little, quirking an eyebrow at Kurt. “So is this your way of trying to get me to apologize, then?” he says dryly. “Because that’s kind of manipulative and so not you, Kurt --”

“Hush,” Kurt laughs, kissing him full on the mouth before tapping his cheek. Blaine sighs and turns back around, trying to relax again. “I think we both had valid points, but that’s not what this is about.”

“Okay,” Blaine sighs. “Then what is it about?”

“I... might have tried to project some of my fears onto you without realizing it,” Kurt admits, and Blaine twists around again, curious. Some of the suds end up on his chin as he turns, and Kurt bites back a smile before batting them away. “You’re not the first boyfriend I’ve lived with.”

“Jeremy,” Blaine supplies.

“Jeremy,” Kurt affirms, and Blaine turns around again, letting Kurt’s fingers resume their work on Blaine’s hair. It’s a distraction for Kurt, Blaine realizes, something to do and focus on while he talks, and he’s obviously taking as much comfort in it as Blaine is, if not more. “We were together for three and a half years, and then when I was just about to start at Harvard, we moved in together.”

“And what, you assumed that our relationship would suffer the same demise that one did?” Blaine guesses.

“I was afraid of it, a little,” Kurt admits in a small voice, and Blaine reaches down through the suds to tangle their fingers together under the warm water. “I told you why we broke up, Blaine, but our relationship didn’t start to fall apart until we moved in together. Do you know why so many couples move in together before there’s any sort of legal commitment?” Blaine shakes his head, uncomfortable, and Kurt presses a kiss to his shoulder in response. “It’s the equivalent of having a baby to save a marriage. People think moving in together will solve their problems. It doesn’t. It just makes you face them. And that didn’t happen with me and Jeremy. The opposite happened. I think we both figured that since we were living together, we didn’t have to put in as much effort. It was like he was hardly in my life at all.”

“I don’t -- Kurt, I don’t understand,” Blaine sighs. “I didn’t think I’d ever given you the impression that I would be like him, that we would end up like that. You told me all of that a long time ago. I don’t understand why you’re still worried about it now.”

Kurt’s quiet for a minute before he reaches out a hand and plucks his wine glass from a floor to take a long sip. He sets it back down when he’s done, smacking his lips to bide some time. “You’re nothing like him,” Kurt assures him. “And I think that’s part of what terrifies me. You’ve kind of turned my whole world upside down, Blaine Anderson. I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“A little bit,” Blaine hums, grinning cheekily.

“It’s sort of almost the last step, us moving in together,” Kurt explains. “You being here all the time, your things mixed in with mine -- it’s all so permanent. It’s like you’ve completely invaded my life.”

Blaine turns around again at that, face falling. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” Kurt rushes to explain. “It’s -- I don’t think I was wrong in expressing a desire to want a little independence and space. It’s just -- this is all so much more, now. You mean a lot to me, which makes this a bigger deal. And it means there’s a lot more to lose.”

“Hey,” Blaine says, twisting a little more so he can press a wet kiss to the underside of Kurt’s jaw. “You’re not going to lose me. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

“Yeah, well. Projecting,” Kurt says with a smile.

Blaine laughs at that, finally relaxed, and kisses Kurt’s jaw again before turning back around, reaching for his own glass. “You know, I’m kind of surprised you weren’t a psychology major at Tufts,” he teases. “You’re very self-aware sometimes. I’m simultaneously frightened and jealous.”

That gets Kurt to chuckle against him, and he sets Blaine’s glass down on the floor for him before turning Blaine all the way around so that their chests are pressed together amidst the water and suds. He leans down and presses a kiss that tastes like wine to Blaine’s mouth, warm and buzzing and comforting in a way that feels like home. “How about,” he starts, dropping a kiss to the corner of Blaine’s mouth, voice suddenly low, “you and I take this into the bedroom?” His lips fall to Blaine’s jaw, trail up to Blaine’s eyebrow, and Blaine can feel Kurt against him, just as hard.

“I think that sounds perfect, roomie,” Blaine breathes, pressing in close. “You know, the only bad thing about living together is that it’ll be really hard for me to focus with you around all the time. You’re such a distraction.”

“Me?” Kurt yelps, splashing some bubbles at him. “Look who’s talking, Mr. I-Bend-Over-In-The-Middle-Of-The-Living-Room. I know this is a sore spot, but your ass _is_ fantastic, you know.”

Blaine wrinkles his nose and tries to blow the suds off of his face. But he’s not upset, not at all, and he tries to convey that by taking Kurt’s hand in his under the water and moving it down to cover his ass. He grins a little as he leans up and in to kiss Kurt. Kurt’s hand tightens on Blaine’s ass as Blaine deepens the kiss. “Mmm,” Kurt moans, trying to pull away a little. “Bed, let’s move this to the bedroom. We’re not having sex in the bath.”

“Are you sure?” Blaine asks, shifting so their cocks align. “Just because you’re turning thirty next year doesn’t mean you can’t have a little adventurous sex once in awhile.”

“You _brat_ ,” Kurt chastises, gasping as Blaine grips the edge of the tub behind his head. “I could make you sleep on the couch for that.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Blaine counters with a grin, rocking his hips a little. The water sloshes around them but doesn’t spill over, and Kurt’s hand squeezes his ass a little harder. Blaine leans in and nudges Kurt’s nose with his own. “No more going to bed angry?” Kurt answers him with a kiss, free hand curling around to the back of Blaine’s neck. Blaine inhales sharply, shifting to try and get more purchase --

Blaine’s hand slips from the edge of the tub, too wet to hold him up properly, and he falls on top of Kurt, submerging them both under the water. They come spluttering to the surface together, Blaine laughing so hard he can’t even keep his eyes open. “This is why we don’t have sex in the bathtub!” Kurt gasps, trying to sit up a little.

“No, no,” Blaine insists, still laughing as he places awkward, off center kisses to Kurt’s mouth and cheek. “I just need to get some traction. We can do this right here.” Kurt laughs, ducking his head and avoiding Blaine’s kisses, bangs falling across his forehead. “What?”

“Sorry,” Kurt laughs. “It’s just -- that’s what you said to me, the morning after we were first together.”

Blaine wrinkles his nose as he tries to remember. “Morning after Valentine’s Day last year,” he says. “After Sugar’s wedding.”

Kurt grins and then bites his lip, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. “You wanted to blow me in the kitchen.”

Blaine perks up a little, crowding in close again. “I can do that.”

Kurt smiles again, soft and warm, and kisses Blaine’s forehead before resting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Okay, make up sex first, then we’ll curl up in bed and I’ll help you organize your work, okay?”

Blaine returns the smile and presses a kiss to Kurt’s clavicle. “You’re the best.”

They drain the bath and climb out without bruises, miraculously. They towel dry each other off, tugging each other close and trading wine-flavored kisses. And even if it’s not new for Kurt, it’s new for Blaine, to see his things mixed in with Kurt’s. He’s left bottles of shampoo and conditioner here before (good hair care is especially important for people with curly hair), kept a spare toothbrush in the holder on the sink. He’s left a couple of spare sets of clothes in one of Kurt’s dresser drawers, but Blaine actually lives here now. Kurt’s unpacked his boxes, put away all of his things. Blaine’s a permanent fixture here now, beyond the bathroom and a single drawer. He’s willing to bet there’s even a whole drawer devoted to the collection of bowties he’s acquired over the last two years.

Blaine takes his bathrobe off of the hook from the back of the door and tugs it on, angling his neck when Kurt comes up behind him to pepper more kisses against his skin. “Kitchen?” Kurt mumbles into his neck.

“Kitchen,” Blaine affirms.

In the kitchen, though, Blaine gets distracted on his mission to get Kurt onto one of the kitchen stools. There’s something on the kitchen island that wasn’t there when Blaine walked in, and Blaine can feel Kurt’s smile against the back of his neck. It’s a replacement of the novelty mug Kurt broke on Sunday night with a shiny pink bow stuck to the handle. Blaine’s fingers trace over the letters printed on the mug as Kurt’s hands snake around to the front of Blaine’s robe, toying with the belt. “Save a horse, ride a lawyer,” he reads aloud, unable to fight back a smile.

“Mmhm,” Kurt hums, nipping at Blaine’s earlobe. “Now that’s something _I_ can do.”

Blaine shuffles out of Kurt’s embrace reluctantly, picking the mug up from the island and carrying it to the cabinet. He opens the door and pauses for a moment, smiling at the sight of the rest of their mugs all mixed in together. He removes the bow from the mug in his hand and places the mug inside, right next to the mug Kurt had first let him use. “Lawyers get you off.”

“Still true.”

Blaine turns around as he shuts the cabinet door, wiggling the bow between his fingers. “Which one of us wears the bow?” he asks, closing the distance between them.

Kurt plucks the bow from Blaine’s hand and presses it to the hollow of his throat, beaming. “You. I like to think of you as the gift I come home to every day.”

Blaine sucks a kiss to Kurt’s neck as he tugs the belt of Kurt’s bathrobe undone, hands skirting beyond the fabric to touch Kurt’s skin. He wedges a leg between Kurt’s to nudge them apart a little before dropping to his knees. He lifts his eyes up as he pushes the robe away, grinning. “Welcome home.”


End file.
